


I Fell From the Sky For You (Like a Shooting Star) [by louserz]

by waddupjordan (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/waddupjordan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry owns a bookstore, Louis is homeless, and apparently even shooting stars fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Fell From the Sky For You (Like a Shooting Star) [by louserz]

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE: this is not my story! I got permission from louserz on tumblr to post it here (with credit, of course). This is 100% her story. (:
> 
> A/N: Don’t blame me if it sucks!!! .x
> 
> [original post: http://louserz.tumblr.com/post/54185670515/i-fell-from-the-sky-for-you-like-a-shooting-star]

Harry just really loved books. He just loved the feel of them, really. He felt like he was holding a whole world in his hands, someone’s life. All he had to do was crack it open and start reading, and suddenly he was somewhere else, falling in love with these characters. He liked characters a lot more than real people, he figured that a long time ago back in primary school. Real people were much more cruel than characters. There was this one boy who told Harry that he was stupid and then snapped his reading glasses in half. Harry had cried and hid in the library, holding up the lenses so that he could go back to the comfort of his real friends. Then there was the time when he eleven and one boy beat him up because he said that he liked boys. Harry remembered lying on the playground pavement for a while, but when it started to rain he had forced himself to get up and limp home. When he got home he locked himself in his room and read, tears filling the books as he let the soothing hands of his fictional friends comfort him.

So really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise he grew up to own a small bookstore. Styles Books was his own little slice of heaven really, he could sit there surrounded by books and the select few who cherished the same love for them as he did. He only met the sort of people he liked, the sort of people he could discuss his interests with. And yes, it was lovely and perfect, but he had never met that one person he had clicked with. That one person where he could sit back and talk to for hours on end and not get bored. Harry sometimes longed for that person as much as he did the characters in his books, because some nights he would find himself realizing they were just  _words._ But they we’re much more, he would always remind himself. But sure, he would love his own flesh and blood ‘character’ to come one day. Someone to be with him forever.

 

“I can’t reach a book,” Harry heard, and he glanced up from over the rim of his book peer at the elderly woman, hunched over and glaring at him slightly.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Harry apologized, pushing himself up from the worn, and withered chair near the corner of the room. Harry didn’t know if it was very professional to walk around his shop without shoes on, but he wasn’t going to go digging for them now.

He plucked the book from the shelf, taking care with the fragile binding that looked as if it were as old as the woman stooped below him. “Thank you,” she snapped a bit harshly, and Harry hadn’t known someone could say thank you harshly.

There was the squeak of the front door opening and the low ting of the bell above the door, and Harry glanced up and greeted two men engaged in conversation with an earnest smile.

“…He looks up from the table, knocks over the table…” the taller of the two in the trench coat was saying, making the shorter one nod eagerly. “And he just started vomiting right, and he’s just vomiting! And afterwards were just following his trail, and it’s like vomit, vomit, vomit all the way to the loo! And he just sort of comes out of the loo and says ‘I didn’t do it!’.” The shorter one laughs a bit, catching Harry’s eye as they turn to go around the corner and smiles warmly.

Harry forces a smile on his own face, rubbing at the two indents on his nose made by his glasses. Harry figures that they both would make good book characters. Perhaps the one with the trench coat is a professor, and he was telling a story about one of his colleagues. Maybe the shorter one is a detective, trying to get to know the taller one because he’s investigating a murder. Or perhaps, Harry thinks wryly, they are just two regular guys with nothing better to do then visit a dusty old bookshop with a dusty bookshop keeper.

Harry sighed, folding himself back into the large recliner, shivering slightly. He really should get the heating fixed in here, but for now giant jumpers and thick blankets will have to do. Sure, he could go upstairs into his flat, but then he would have to leave behind all his friends. He would feel so alone.

Harry remembers the first time he laid eyes on this shop. It hadn’t been used in forever, the plumbing the broken, there were cracks in the ceiling, and the flat above was way too small. But he had loved it anyway. It would be perfect! He could install shelves all over the walls, even navigate them to fit over the archways that adjoined the various rooms. Sure, he would have to work hard to make it look presentable, but Harry didn’t mind a challenge.

Soon after he opened it his mother died. Harry’s father hadn’t even bothered to come to the funeral, but why should he? He hadn’t seen his father in ten years anyway. That was when his sister stopped visiting too. Where was Gemma? Last he heard was she was moving into the city a few months ago. Was she doing alright? Harry had tried calling a few weeks prior, but she must have changed her number because it didn’t go through.

Harry didn’t know who else to turn to but his books. Everyone had left him-all except his paper companions. What was he supposed to do? His mother was dead, his father didn’t care, and his sister had left without as much as a goodbye. He didn’t have any friends, so what was someone to do?

Harry hadn’t cried over himself since he was eleven, when those boys had beat him up. Sure, he had cried for his mother when she died, and he cried over the deaths of characters in his novels, but never for himself. But he allowed himself to cry that night, curled up on the recliner and book pressed to his chest. The tears collected on the rims of his glasses and dripped down the bridge of his nose. His throat ached, and his fingers curled around the worn edges of the hardcover in his lap. He had wanted to die that night. Just curl up and waste away, maybe even slip into one of the worlds of his friends. He might not survive a magical world like the ones they lived in, but that didn’t really matter to him. He just wanted to get away. And so he did. He read and read until the sun climbed over the horizon, and he tiredly rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. He wasn’t going to let himself cry again, so he got dressed and prepared the shop for the day.

That was a year ago and he still hadn’t heard from anyone. He was alone with his thoughts, his books, his customers. He didn’t like being this alone, and soon the words became almost mocking and his friends taunting. Because no matter how much comfort they brought, they all had someone to turn to. They all had someone to hear them, whether it be another one of their own kind or Harry himself. Harry had no one to hear him but his own mind, and that was torture.

Soon he told himself he didn’t need anyone. He was getting used to being alone, he didn’t need someone to hear him. That’s a bit selfish, isn’t it? To want someone to listen? They had better stuff to do then be with him. So no, he didn’t need anyone. He just needed an escape, and books brought that to him.

“Young man?”

Harry jolted from his thoughts, springing up from the chair and running a hand through his angled curls.

“S-sorry,” Harry apologized to a rather stout woman, who just pursed her thin lips and made her face look pinched.

“You really shouldn’t be sleeping at work,” she scolded as she followed him over to the cash register with two books tucked under her frail arms. “I should tell the owner, I really should.”

Harry stifled his chuckle as he took the books from her, turning them this way and that to find the yellowing price tag. “I am the owner,” he told her simply, his voice low as to not disturb the young girl reading over near the archway leading back towards the romance novels.

The older woman made a noise in the back of her throat, but Harry didn’t figure it was a very approving one. “How old are you, then? You have to be at least twenty-five to own such an…. _organized_  establishment.”

“I’m twenty-one, ma’am,” Harry answered, pressing a button on the cash register and accepting the money she held out to him.

“So you didn’t go to university I’m assuming?” the woman pried, and Harry carefully bagged the books and ripped off the receipt, no longer smiling as he was before.

“Have a lovely day, ma’am,” Harry said dryly, holding out the bag. She took it with a frown, huffing before turning and hobbling out of the bookshop.

Harry sighed, wondering if later he should make the venture down the way to the small drugstore and get some Advil. He decided, or really the pounding behind his eyes did, that he would. So later that day, when the sun was spilling out an orangey hue along the edge of the sky and Harry flipped over the OPEN sign to CLOSED, he pulled on an old pea coat and gloves to keep warm against the late October  air.

He started down the way, lifting his collar a bit as his cheeks grew red from the cold. He was thinking about whether or not he should also head down to the market while he was out, when he stumbled over something and crashed to the ground, landing with a grunt on his elbow.

He groaned, pushing himself up and wincing at the slight shock of pain it sent up into his shoulder. “You alright, mate?” a voice asked. It was from a small man tucked against himself in between the corner of two shops, with brilliant blue eyes and a thin pink lips.

Harry decided, that even with the torn jacket and patched scarf, he would make the most beautiful character one could hope to write about. “Y-Yeah,” Harry assured him, quickly scrambling back up and off the ground.

“Sorry, didn’t realize a giant was going to round the corner just as I stretched my legs out,” the man apologized with a smile, and Harry wondered if it could be considered an apology since the man called him a giant. But Harry decided he didn’t really mind.

“It’s alright,” Harry assured him, and the man gave him one last smile before Harry turned and hurried away back towards the drugstore.

Harry wasn’t used to meeting beautiful strangers in between two shops, so what was he supposed to do? Harry began making up characters for the boy. A high king maybe? Or perhaps just a loving brother who always came over on Holidays and liked to bake. Harry didn’t really care, he was just content with shaping him up in his own mind.

Harry was on his way back home when he saw him again, in the same spot, eyes closed and nose red with cold.

“Are you alright?” Harry heard himself asking, which surprised him. Since when was he one to instigate conversation?

The man opened an eye, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, it’s you again Curly. Yeah, I’m alright, how are you?”

Harry frowned, not sure if he was really asking or making fun of him, so he just shrugged. “Alright. Um…but why are you sitting on the ground?”

The man shrugged, snuggling deeper into the corner. “Because it’s cold out there and the wind can’t get me in here. So tell me, Curly, why are you standing out there? Hm?”

Harry’s cheeks flushed and his eyes darted to his feet. “I-uh…I’m on my way back home.”

“Mhmm. Well, I have a lovely home right here, where’s your home, love?” the man asked, sending Harry a bright smile with all his teeth.

“Down the way, I own Styles Books,” Harry told him quietly, and the man’s eyes widened a bit. Perhaps he hadn’t really been asking or expecting Harry to answer? Oh, Harry, stop being stupid and just leave the poor man alone! “Well, I have to go.”

And then he was giving the man a small wave and hurried away, down the street as the wind began to pick up. Harry hurried into the shop, turning and locking the door behind him. This is why he stuck to books.

Harry dropped his small bottle of Advil onto the counter, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up on the rack. He rubbed his hands together in the cold room, making his way over to a closet behind the register and pulling out an old space heater he had gotten at a yard sale not three months ago. Harry dragged it over in front of the recliner, turning it on and angling it better. He grabbed a few books, ones he had read before and knew the characters well.

He wrapped himself up in a large comforter, feeling the waves of heat washing over him as he leaned back against the chair. Harry was going to forget about the man he saw, the one with the bright blue eyes and soothing voice. Harry wasn’t going to let himself imagine him as a character anymore. Harry was alright alone with his books, he didn’t need anyone. He most certainly didn’t need a homeless man who asked way too many questions and seemed to enjoy talking.

So Harry was just going to forget, because what else is there to do?

*

Harry awoke with the usual crick in his neck and book open and resting against his nose. He yawned, opening his eyes and frowning when he realized the whole room was one, messy blur of colors.

He pushed the blanket off, groaning at his stiff muscles as he dropped to the ground and let his hands run over the dusty hardwood floor. Sheesh, when was the last time he dusted around here? He found his glasses and pushed them up his nose, sneezing into his sleeve as he did.

He shook his head, trying to clear out his thoughts and early-morning fogginess. Really, he should consider dusting out his mind as well.

He dragged himself upstairs into his flat, not bothering with changing his jumper since it was so cold he wandered if he could without freezing to death. He slipped on a pair of those fuzzy slipper-socks and made himself a cuppa, wandering downstairs and out the door to the small café right next door.

“Morning, Harry!” the boy behind the counter called and Harry gave him a tired smile.

“G’morning, Niall,” he greeted the boy like he did every morning. Harry made his way up to the counter, already pulling out his money. “Just a muffin for this morning. Not really hungry.”

Niall nodded, flashing Harry a wide grin as he slipped on a pair of plastic gloves. “Freezing out, innit?” Niall asked, and if Harry didn’t talk to the boy every morning he would never be able to understand his thick Irish accent.

“Extremely,” Harry agreed, shuffling his shoe-less feet against the floor.

Niall pulled out a plain muffin from behind the glass display, wrapping it up in a sheet of paper and sticking it in a paper bag. Harry paid for the muffin and left, sending Niall one more small smile.

That’s how his mornings went, awaking to a cold shop and then tiredly stumbling over to the café next door with no shoes on. Niall didn’t mind, and Harry wondered that if he tried hard enough if Niall would be his friend. Maybe, but that seemed to be so much work didn’t it? Trying to be friends with someone? Nah, that wasn’t for Harry.

He set the bag down on his recliner, checking the clock and sighing. Well, time to open up for another day. He walked over and flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN, turning back to the comfort of his recliner when he heard the familiar  _ting_ of the bell above the door. He jumped, nearly dropping his cup as he whirled around. He had never had a customer this early before!

Harry froze, breath catching in his throat. It was the same boy he had seen the night before, the one who talked too much with brilliant blue eyes. He was standing in the doorway, seeming a bit hesitant with his hands stuffed in his pockets and teeth worrying and his bottom lip. His eyes might Harry’s, however, and he seem to brighten a bit. Relax. He grinned, flashing all his white, white teeth all at once and it made Harry dizzy.

“Heya, mate!” the boy greeted, sniffling once. “It’s bloody freezing outside; I hope you don’t mind me hanging around here a bit?”

Harry didn’t know what to say, but he knew he couldn’t say no. How rude would it be to send this poor man back out into the cold? He didn’t even have a proper coat!

“N-not at all,” Harry murmured with a shrug, adjusting his glasses with a shrug. The man smiled brightly before turning to the shelf nearest the door, grabbing a book at random and reading the title.

“’Inks and Roses’,” he read aloud, scanning over the first page. “Think I read this back in secondary school. You read it?” the man asks and Harry nods, still standing and frozen with his cup.

“I’ve read every book here,” Harry said quietly, and the man’s eyes lit up with a laugh.

“You need to find yourself a girl, mate,” the man commented, replacing the book back on the shelf and Harry felt the corners of his mouth lift into a genuine smile. When was the last time he genuinely smiled?

“I’m Louis by the way,” the man said, eyes scanning over the small room and then to the archway. “Back there more books? Damn!”

Harry’s smile stayed in place and he nodded vigorously. “Yeah, there are more books. That’s where I keep the romance, mystery, and supernatural books. Up here are the more realistic ones. And I’m Harry.”

Louis cocked his head to the side, studying Harry intently. Harry shifted uneasily under his unwavering gaze, fingers still curled around the handle of his teacup. “Is romance not realistic?” Louis asked after a moment and Harry shrugged.

“Maybe the Titanic is,” Harry murmured quietly, more to himself than to Louis.

Louis seemed to catch it though, because his grin widened. “I like you, Harry,” Louis confirmed after a moment, rubbing his hands together. Harry then seemed to snap out of his trance, realizing Louis was  _shivering_ and Harry had a perfectly good and warm cuppa being ignored in his hand.

“You want it?” Harry asked, and one of Louis’s eyebrows rose in question. “The tea,” Harry elaborated quickly and Louis shrugged, but Harry could see the want burning in his eyes. “Seriously, I don’t want it. I can always make more anyway,” Harry insisted and Louis shrugged, approaching Harry so swiftly he may as well have just appeared right in front of his eyes. Louis was a good neck and head shorter than Harry when he was standing right in front of him, and Harry liked that. He didn’t know why, but he liked that.

“Thanks, mate!” Louis exclaimed, taking the cup from Harry’s outstretched hand and taking a large gulp. Louis’s eyes watered and Harry was worried he had burnt his tongue badly, but Louis only smiled. “Wow, can’t remember the last time I had something warm to drink.”

Harry nodded absently, then remembered the muffin sitting on his recliner. “Are you hungry?” Harry asked, reaching over and grabbing the bag from the chair.

Louis hesitated, but he couldn’t say  _no_ with Harry looking at him like an eager puppy could he? “A bit,” Louis admitted and Harry tore the bag open, reaching inside and practically shoving the food into Louis’s hands. “Harry, you are too good to me,” Louis commented with a wink, taking a big bite out of the side and  _Jesus_  this was good. “Where’d you get this?” he asked, and a few crumbs rolled down his chin and onto the floor, but Harry didn’t seem to notice.

“Café next door,” Harry said, gesturing towards the wall and Louis nodded, amused.

“Hmmm, interesting…” he said, taking another big bite out of the muffin.

The bell dinged up front, and Harry glanced anxiously over Louis’s shoulder to greet the customer, a girl maybe in her late twenties.

“Hello,” she greeted the two boys, eyeing Louis’s tattered clothes with more curiosity then distain and Louis saluted her with two fingers.

“Hi!” Louis greeted loudly, and Harry jolted a bit at his forwardness. Harry never greeted people with words, a simple nod or smile was fine for him. “Well, come on Haz, don’t be rude,” Louis insisted and Harry blushed before nodding in her direction. She smiled before turning the corner into the other room, leaving the two boys alone again. “You need to work on your people skills,” Louis commented, hopping up onto the counter and nearly pushing the cash register over the edge.

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing it and shoving it back onto the counter. “You took my breakfast so I would expect a bit more credit than that!”

Louis scoffed, taking a large gulp from his cup. “Please, you offered it to me. Wouldn’t really let me say no, now that I think about it,” Louis said, and Harry shrugged but he was smiling.

They stood there for a moment, a bit awkwardly, and then Louis jumped down. “Well, I’m going to find a book to entertain myself with.” And then he was rounding the corner and leaving Harry alone. Harry grinned to himself, turning to his chair and curling up into himself. Maybe he could imagine the characters Louis could be a bit more.

*

The next morning, Harry went through his usual routine of going over to the café barefoot and then returning to the shop. He opened on time like usual and was sweeping the floor (finally) when the bell dinged and in flounced Louis, far too awake and happy for it being barely nine in the morning.

“Hiya, Haz!” Louis greeted before turning and disappearing into the back of the shop. Harry smiled and finished sweeping, before heading towards the back and finding Louis tucked into a corner with a pile of books beside him. He had one in his lap and his eyes were flitting over the page quickly, tongue poking out between two teeth.

“You hungry?” Harry asked hopefully, startling the boy below him a bit.

“Starving!” Louis exclaimed, and Harry bent down and placed the muffin and tea on the floor near him. “Thanks, Curly.”

Harry beamed, self-consciously running a hand through his hair before turning and hurrying back to the front of the shop. Harry picked up a book at random, trying to concentrate on the plot he had already read dozens of times, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the boy in the back.

 

This went on for about a month before Harry got the courage to actually truly speak with Louis on his own, and then he messed it up.

It was just after the store had closed and Harry had gone out and stocked up a bit more, so Louis volunteered to help put them on the shelves. They had been working silently, with only a soft hum coming from Louis, for maybe twenty or so minutes when Harry finally plucked up the nerve.

“So Louis,” Harry began, and Louis made a noise in the back of his throat to show he was listening. Louis was wrapping a sticker around the spine of the book, labeling the category and author’s initials, and Harry had been fascinated with how gently his small hands cared for the books for about ten of the twenty minutes they had been working. “Um, where do you sleep at night?”

Louis shrugged, fingers faltering a bit but he kept working steadily. ”Here and there,” he answered, turning swiftly with the book in his hands and disappearing into the back room to shelf it.

Harry frowned, and when Louis returned he stayed quite for a few moments before asking, “Um…you know uh Lou…you can maybe stay, uh, here if you want?” Wow, smooth.

Louis smiled a bit, labeling a sticker before wrapping it around the spine. “It’s really okay, Haz. I would be a nuisance anyway.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Harry insisted. “Why are you homeless anyway?” Harry clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening.

Louis froze, fingers suspended in midair above the book he had been working on. After a moment he looked up, and Harry’s heart lurched when he saw a bit of fear and anger burning in them. “I have to go. See you later.”

Louis turned on his heel, jamming his hands in his pockets and slamming the door behind him. Harry wilted, sinking to the floor and wrapping his arms around his legs.  _Stupid,_ he thought to himself.  _No wonder everyone’s gone, you even scared away Louis!_

 

Louis didn’t come back the next day. Or the day after that, or the week after that for that matter. Every morning Harry would wait eagerly with a muffin and tea, and every morning he would never see Louis. Soon, he had a pile of muffins and cups sitting on his kitchen table. He couldn’t bear to throw them away, it would be like throwing away his chance of Louis returning. After using all his teacups he went to the drugstore and bought those Styrofoam ones, and every day for the next week he would do the same things: wake up, make tea for Louis, buy Louis a muffin, wait for Louis, snap at customers because of Louis, stare at a wall while missing Louis, and then go to sleep thinking of Louis.

On the end of the second week, Harry was still asleep on his recliner when there was a loud knocking at the door. He jolted awake, fumbling at the table for his glasses and shoving them up onto his nose. He scrambled up, not worrying about what he looked like, because through the frosted glass of the door he  _knew_  that figure.

He flung the door open to a very tired looking Louis, one gloveless hand shoved under his armpit and feet stamping the ground. “Louis!” Harry exclaimed happily, face lighting up.

Louis smiled as well, eyes shining. “Morning Haz! Now let me in before my fingers fall off! Never known a winter so cold, honestly!”

Harry backed away and Louis bolted inside, rubbing his hands together and over his cheeks. “I-I haven’t had time to go next door,” Harry stuttered and Louis laughed, running a hand through his hair.

“I got that much, do you always sleep with your clothes on?” Louis asked and Harry blushed and shrugged.

“Pretty much. I can go next door now, I’ll be right back! And-And I can make you your tea! I’ll be right back-don’t move!”

Harry bolted out the door and next door, leaving Louis with an amused smirk. Harry all but flung the door open, nearly tripping over his too big feet before he could reach the counter.

“You alright there, Harry? Where’s the fire?” Niall asked, concern lacing his words as he stopped rearranging cupcakes and eyed Harry suspiciously.

“Nowhere,” Harry stammered, breathing heavily. “Quick! Give me a muffin!”

“We only have blueber-“

“But I don’t know if he likes blueberry!” Harry wailed, and Niall’s eyebrows rose.

“Do you want to talk about someth-“

“No, I want a muffin!”

“Alright, alright! I was saving it for my break later-“

“Thanks Niall!” Harry took the muffin from his outstretched hand and bolted from the store, back into his own shop.

Louis was standing where Harry had left him, and his attention turn to Harry when he burst through the door. Harry was panting when he handed the muffin to Louis, smiling proudly. Louis took it, giving Harry an wide all-teeth smile.

“Thanks, Curly! You know, my favorite type of muffin are chocolate-“ Louis began but Harry’s face fell.

“I can go back-“ Harry interrupted but Louis waved it away, smirking.

“Just for future reference. Now tell me, are you always this excited?” Harry blushed, eyes falling to his feet. “Eyes up, Curly!” Louis snapped and Harry obeyed immediately. “I hate when people do that! That’s like a sign of weakness or something.”

Harry considered this, shrugging. He supposed Louis was right. “Sorry,” he mumbled but Louis just sighed.

“Apologizing-no. Another sign of weakness. Unless you murdered my cat, don’t say sorry.” 

Harry laughed. “You have a cat?”

“Of course not!” Louis exclaimed, smiling. “Though there was this one stray dog that kept following me. Didn’t bother me much until it stole one of my gloves.” Louis held out his gloveless hand as evidence.

“I have a pair you can borrow,” Harry told him, turning to disappear up into his flat to get them.

“It’s really fine-“

“I said  _borrow_ ,” Harry explained with a small smirk. “Don’t think you’re  _that_ special.”

Louis laughed, holding up the muffin. “I would say I’m pretty special.”

Harry grinned, turning and running up the flight of stairs and up into his kitchen. He gathered up all the cups in his arms and dumped them in the sink, throwing the disposable ones away. He also threw out the muffins that had gone stale and hard, instead grabbing about three of the soft ones that weren’t crumbling yet. He almost forgot to actually grab the gloves he had come up for, and while he was rummaging through his closet he also grabbed Louis a new jacket, hat, scarf, earmuffs-hey, it was cold and all this was cheap stuff.

Harry trudged back down the stairs, arms full with food, clothes, and a cup balanced in his hand. If Harry didn’t own a bookstore, he could be a waitress. Waiter! Whatever.

Harry couldn’t see Louis over the jacket obscuring his vision, but he definitely could hear his loud laugh as he caught sight of the boy struggling down the steps. It was loud and bright and normally those were two things Harry hated, but Harry didn’t mind it when it came from Louis. Nope, he might actually enjoy it.

“Did you bring your  _entire_ closet?” Louis asked, and Harry thought he might trip over his own two feet-again-when suddenly the pile of clothes was being lifted from his arms and he was left holding three muffins and a cup. “And huh, where’d you get those?”

Louis was looking at the muffins a bit hungrily, and Harry wondered where Louis was getting his food from when Harry wasn’t supplying him with it. “Uh, saved them,” Harry told him sheepishly, cheeks flaring.

Louis’s grin widened as he dropped the pile of clothes onto the recliner and took another muffin and the cup. “Thanks! Now tell me, how’d you manage to know I would be here today and stock up?”

“I didn’t….” Harry mumbled, and Louis frowned and his eyes widened a bit.

“Harry, have you been getting me food everyday…like, even when I didn’t show up?”

Harry felt pathetic. What was he supposed to do? Tell the truth and look like an idiot? Or lie when they both  _knew_ he was lying? Harry just shrugged, staring at his toes. “Maybe…”

Louis stood there for a moment, peering curiously at the top of the boy’s bent head. “Well…I guess, uh…thanks. I mean-not many people care too much about a random deadbeat who steals their tea every morning.”

“You’re not a random deadbeat,” Harry assured him quickly, head shooting up and eyes insistent. “You’re my friend. I mean, uh, if you want to…oh I mean…you don’t  _have_ to-“

“Harry, shut up.”

“Okay.”

Louis slung an arm over the boy’s neck, pulling him close to his side and planting a sloppy kiss on the top of his head. Harry’s cheeks turned scarlet and he tried to avert his gaze down, but remembered what Louis had said about it annoying him and instead fought to keep his vision level.

“Now, let’s open up! Hate to make your lovely customers wait around for little ol’ me.” Harry nodded in agreement, leaving the warmth of Louis’s side to go and flip the little sign from CLOSED to OPEN. Just like every morning for the past two weeks, except now it was with Louis.

His friend.

 

Harry didn’t want a repeat of what had happened before, so he didn’t bring up Louis’s living arrangements again for a while. Louis was a regular thing again, a regular shot of brightness in his otherwise gray and dull life. When Louis left at eight every night it was just so Harry could anticipate him coming back in the morning. Did Harry feel pathetic? Incredibly so. Did he mind? Eh.

“Haz, we should go out and do something,” Louis suggested one night when they were finishing counting the change in the register.

Harry glanced up from putting quarters into a roll and nearly dropped them everywhere. It’s not like he thought Louis meant like a  _date_ , but he hadn’t been out in…quite a while.

“C’mon, it’s a Friday and we both know the other doesn’t have plans. Hell, I was going to go find a park bench or something. It’s lovely out in the park because they just put up all the Christmas lights. You should see it Haz, bloody spectacular!”

Harry grinned and nodded a bit nervously. What were they even going to do? They never had hung out outside the shop, unless you count the night they met ‘hanging out’, which Harry didn’t. What if it was different outside? What if Louis and Harry didn’t click as well?

“Great!” Louis exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Well I have no money so were going to be flying cheap, you still game?”

Harry nodded vigorously. If being a bit awkward and out of his comfort-zone for an hour or two meant that he could spend more time with Louis then he wasn’t complaining.

“Excellent! And I know exactly where to go,” Louis said with a wink that sent Harry’s heart shuddering in his chest.

*

Who would have thought Harry would be stupid enough to follow a very attractive, unemployed boy with an evil grin over a chain-link fence and into The Garden, a large and outdoor florist shop with tall walls of flowers and even bigger fountains.

“What are we doing? It’s freezing!” Harry hissed, but Louis just giggled and swatted at him before taking his hand.

“I love it here,” Louis said simply, tugging Harry past rows of roses and forget-me-nots and daisies.

Harry could understand why. When they made it to the center of the vast maze, there was nothing but a large fountain spewing sparkling water into the icy air and star canopying the sky where the flowers didn’t dare reach. Louis flopped down onto his back, propping his head up with his hat.

“Well c’mon,” he insisted when Harry just stood there, staring at him fondly.

Harry obeyed without a word, sinking down beside Louis and tucking himself into the smaller boy’s side. Louis’s fingers tangled in Harry’s mop of unruly curls, and neither seemed bothered when it seemed as if they were trapped there forever.

They looked up into the sky, watching the twinkling stars and feeling their noses grow red from cold. Harry sniffled, using the sleeve of his coat to wipe at his runny nose. “Is this where you come at night?” Harry asks quietly, whispering softly into the silent night air.

“Usually,” Louis whispered back, and neither is sure why they are whispering but it just seems right. Like they don’t want to break whatever illusion The Garden has brought them.

“Lou…” Harry mumbled, feeling Louis’s fingers become even more knotted in his hair. But really? He doesn’t mind.

“Hmm?” Louis hums, eyes twinkling with the reflection of the stars above. “What is it, love?”

“Do you think stars can fall in love?”

Louis laughed softly, scrunching his eyebrows together as if in deep thought. “Yes,” he decided. “That’s how we get shooting stars. They fall for each other.”

Harry liked that, and he smiled. “Lou?”

“Hm.”

“Where’s your family?”

Louis didn’t freeze like he did the last time, only continued to play with Harry’s hair and let the silence stretch a bit. “They are in Doncaster, where I left them,” Louis finally answered softly, and Harry heard something in his voice he couldn’t pinpoint.

“Do you have any siblings?”

Harry could practically  _feel_  Louis smile. “Yeah. Four sisters.”

“Wow.”

“Haz?”

“Hm?”

“Where’s your family?”

Harry should have seen that coming. He was going to lie, lie like he did with everyone else.  _Oh,  just busy._ But he didn’t want to lie with Louis. He just couldn’t.

“Gone,” Harry admitted, sadness creeping around his words.

Louis pulled him tighter, hugging the younger boy closer so that soon Harry’s head was resting on Louis’s chest. Harry could feel Louis’s heartbeat through his chest, a steady and slow _thumpthumpthump_  that was so calming.

Louis didn’t say he was sorry like Harry had feared. He hated that. Hated the pity.

“I think we’re both a bit lost,” Louis said quietly, finger stroking lazily down the bridge of Harry’s nose softly.

Harry considered that for a moment, listening to the soft gurgle of the fountain behind them. “You know, two months ago I would have agreed. I still do, just not as much. I think we’re both sort of finding our way.”

Louis hummed a soft agreement. Yeah, two months ago he didn’t know the quite, silly, curly-haired boy on top of him.

He supposed that they were sort of finding their way.

They had found each other, right?

*

Christmas Eve was when Harry finally mentioned it again.  _It._

They were both sitting cross-legged on the floor, sipping hot chocolate and licking candy canes Niall had given them. Harry was laughing at how red Louis’s tongue had gotten and how white the candy cane had gone. Harry had decided to open up shop, not really expecting a lot of customers but getting a surprising amount doing last minute cheap gifts. Harry didn’t have a Christmas Tree and he didn’t have a roaring fire with stockings, but he did have a beautiful boy laughing and smiling in front of him so he supposed that was better.

Louis kept glancing at the clock, the hands inching towards hitting eight when Louis always left. But Harry didn’t want Louis to leave tonight. At least not tonight.

“You know, today’s my birthday,” Louis said casually, tongue darting out to lick up the side of the candy cane and  _no_ Harry wasn’t staring like that don’t be silly.

Harry smiled widely and then it faltered. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he scolded, plucking a marshmallow from his cup and flinging it at Louis’s head. “I could have gotten you something! Now I feel bad!”

Louis laughed, shrugging. “I don’t need anything, honest.”

_Yea, besides maybe a roof over your head._ And then Harry thought. “Stay here for the night,” Harry said quietly, and then winced. He was waiting for the explosion. Waiting for Louis to get up and leave. But he just sat there, completely still and eyes unmoving from a spot right above Harry’s head. Harry saw Louis relax slightly, before he smiled a bit.

“O-Okay,” he murmured, a bit uncertainly, and Harry had never seen Louis uncertain. It was reassuring in a way.

Louis had never seen Harry’s flat. There had never really been a reason for him to. They had always been content staying down in the shop, reading, whispering, being together. That’s all they really needed.

Louis decided he liked it right away. For one, it had a roof. It also had a toilet you could flush and running hot water. And a television!

“Uh, I don’t have any Christmas movies and the cable isn’t hooked up so…” Harry murmured, rummaging around in a small wicker basket shoved into the corner of the room. “So…will Titanic do? It’s sort of long, we don’t have to watch all of it…”

“It’s perfect, I believe you mentioned it the first day I came into the shop. Said it was the only realistic romance novel.” Harry was shocked. How did Louis remember that? But Harry didn’t have time to think about it before Louis was  shedding his jacket-or rather  _Harry’s_ jacket-and the rest of all his winter garments.

Harry had never seen Louis without all his gear. The shop had always been freezing and they both usually bundled up anyhow. Louis was wearing a plain white t-shirt with a low v-neck and impossibly tight jeans. Harry wondered absently if he was gaping or drooling or both.  
            Louis cleared his throat, and Harry snapped back to attention. Louis smirked a bit, hopping over the back of the worn-out couch and settling himself comfortably while Harry fiddled with the DVD player. Harry finally turned to join him, frowning when he saw him shivering a bit.

“Yeah, it’s a bit chilly up here too…” Harry mumbled. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into his bedroom, reappearing with a cream-colored jumper that was a bit small on himself. “You can…” Harry mumbled awkwardly, but Louis saved him.

“Oh, yes please!” he exclaimed, holding out an arm for the jumper and Harry smiled triumphantly.

Harry handed it over, settling in beside Louis as he bundled up the clothing and slipped it over his head. Louis was absolutely  _swimming_ in it, but he looked warm so neither complained.

The movie started with them sitting side-by-side, hands in their own laps and legs bent underneath their bodies. The movie was coming to a close at around one-ish, with their legs entangled and Louis practically sitting on Harry’s lap.

Harry groans as Louis’s elbow finds a home buried deep in his stomach, shifting slightly to grab the remote and flick of his television. Harry shifts as easily as possible out from under Louis, hating to leave the boy’s steady warmth but knowing he has to. He brushes a hand sleepily through Louis’s hair, and swears he can hear Louis whispered, “ _Hazzz….”_  But he’s so tired he probably just imagined it.

He stumbles into his bedroom, cold and tired and just drops onto his bed, not even remembering the last time he slept alone in his bed. Not since he and Liam had been…. Oh. Harry shivered in the cold, when he heard a small voice from the doorway.

“H-Harry?” came Louis’s soft voice through the dark, and Harry shot up.

“Yeah, Lou?” Harry whispered into the murky blackness.

“I-I’m cold. Can I….?”

Harry’s heart was hammering in his chest but he swallowed down his fear. “Y-Yeah, Lou….C’mere.”

Louis could hear Louis’s swift, small feet patter across the cold hardwood floor until he was burying himself into Harry’s side and under the comforter and bed sheets.  

“Thanks…” he mumbled, and Harry wrapped two arms around him and cuddled him to his chest.

“No problem,” Harry assured him, running a finger softly down his cheek and feeling Louis’s shiver.

They lay in silence then, both not saying anything but knowing the other was still awake. Finally Harry couldn’t take it anymore.

“Louis…why are you homeless?”

Harry could hear Louis sigh next to him, and he turned over so he was facing Harry, so close not even one of Harry’s fingers could fit between the two.

“I dropped out of Secondary school…” Louis breathed, and Harry sought out his hand in the tangle of bed sheets and eventually found it, squeezing it comfortingly.

“Why?” Harry’s question echoed in the space between them, unanswered until Louis broke the silence.

“My parents….they kicked me out. Didn’t like-….. Didn’t like having a faggot as a son,” Louis spat bitterly, and Harry had never heard Louis’ tone like this. He didn’t like it.

“So they kicked you out,” Harry whispered, and Louis nodded mutely. Harry didn’t need to see the tears to know they were there. He brushed one away blindly, wanting to do more. Wanting to comfort Louis.

“So what happened to make you so quite?”

Harry shrugged in the dark, but Louis wasn’t buying it. Harry sighed. “Just…everything. Being beat up as a kid for liking guys, having my mother pass away, my sister abandoning me soon after…it all takes a toll on someone yeah know?”

“Yeah but…there’s something else. I can feel it…” Louis listened to Harry’s shallow breathing for a moment before adding hesitantly, “Why do you always sleep downstairs, Harry?”

Harry’s breathing shuddered out, as if it had to claw its way out. “How do you know I sleep downstairs  _every_ night?” Harry whispered into the dark.

“I don’t always go to The Garden at eight.”

Harry closed his eyes, already feeling the tears threatening to break him. Already feeling the dull ache in his chest where his heart should be. His poor, old tattered heart that had taken way too many blows for his short years.

“Haz…” Louis prodded gently, and in it Louis reassured him. That Louis didn’t mind if he cried. That Louis didn’t think Harry was weak for doing so.

Harry let out one last shuddering breath before whispering brokenly, “It’s because of  _him._ ”

“Him?” Louis asked gently, thumb finding the small of Harry’s back and rubbing soothing circlers there. “Him who?”

Harry closed his eyes, fighting to keep control of his voice. “My ex-boyfriend,” he whispered. “Liam. He told me he loved me,” Harry whispered. “He would hold me every night and tell me I wasn’t broken.”

“Harry-“

“But he lied,” Harry’s voice became more urgent, his fingers tightening around Louis’s arm.

“Harry, breathe,” Louis whispered softly, breathing slowly in and out.

Harry took a big gulp of air, shuddering when it got stuck in his throat. “He lied…” he whispered again, shattered.  “My mom died and I  _was_ broken. In any more way I had been before-and he didn’t love me anymore…” Harry whispered. “Crazy…distant…freak… _broken,_ ” Harry whispered, shaking as the tears threatened to leak from his eyes and his throat began to hurt. “All those things he said…and then he left too. Because I was too  _much._ Too much for anyone to love. And that’s why they all leave. All of them.”

Harry did cry then, letting the tears flow freely down his face. Then he began to panic, was Louis going to leave him now too? Like everyone else? And that only made him cry harder, shaking and quivering and absolutely a wreck. Except, this time when he cried, he had two strong arms wrapping around his waist and bringing him  _closer,_ not shoving him away. He had a neck to cry into, a steady hand brushing his hair and whispering soothing things into his ear. He had someone who didn’t leave. At least not yet.

“Haz…Haz…” Louis murmured when Harry had started to calm, his tears turning into sniffles. “I’m not going anywhere. You aren’t broken, Haz. You’re perfect and beautiful and smart and sweet…And I love everything about you. You aren’t broken, and if you were, I would fix you.”

Harry smiled into Louis’s neck, letting out another sob that sounded like a laugh might have been mixed in as well. “Lou…” he murmured, snuggling into Louis’ warm embrace.

“Yes, love?”

“Can I be your shooting star?” Harry asked tentatively, and suddenly there were two small hands grabbing the collar of his shirt and forcing him up, so that his lips met another, one’s that belonged to the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. It was sweet and slow, filled with promises Louis wasn’t sure what were for yet.

Louis pulled away, gazing into Harry’s green eyes and smoothing the hair back from his forehead. “Haz….Your already my entire universe.”

And yeah, Harry didn’t think Louis was going anywhere anytime soon.

And he was right. 


End file.
